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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855351">Life of the Party</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zappy/pseuds/Zappy'>Zappy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crimson Spade [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, morbid humor is used</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:40:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zappy/pseuds/Zappy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Hood try to enjoy a charity gala, with some mixed results and an unexpected guest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crimson Spade [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/524329</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Life of the Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>One bad thing about being in Bruce’s inner circle, was that sometimes that meant being roped into his Day Job. Well, Hood supposed it was easier to be roped in because his own Day Job was working for Bruce’s company, which meant company parties, but still. This party was not a company party. It was some fundraiser or another for a hospital or an orphanage or maybe it was for the homeless, Hood wasn’t even sure Bruce knew some days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce knew the right answer was always to quickly glance at the banner prominently displayed above one of the staircases. It’s why there was always a banner. Alfred told Hood that one evening when they were chatting over a cup of cocoa. Hood’s just waiting for the perfect moment to let Bruce know that he knows now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back to the party that Hood really didn’t want to be at. Oh he was all for raising money for those without, especially because he once qualified before his WayneChem job, but it meant dealing with the Upper Crust of Gotham. Hood didn’t agree with about 99% of them and about 99% didn’t agree with him. At least Hood was wearing a red and white suit this time, he’d gotten less snotty looks than he had in his dress last month.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The company was a pain, he couldn’t make great conversation, his make up and wig itched, and he couldn’t even sooth the awkwardness with alcohol because alcohol agreed with him even less than the uber rich did. Little Bird couldn’t even attend this one because of the alcohol and the fact it was a school night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In short, normally Hood wouldn’t want to be anywhere near here. But Bruce was by his side, at least half as miserable as Hood and there was about as much chance of Hood leaving Bruce as there was the Sun suddenly radiating cold like in that one Doctor Who episode about the dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten o’clock, woman with the gaudy eye-shadow.” Hood glanced where Bruce directed and smiled over the rim of his sparkling cider. (Bruce always made sure to have a few bottles stashed away for Hood to drink while at shindigs like this, so at least it might </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Hood was drinking the outrageously expensive wine. Hood had wanted to kiss him when he first found out. He thought his force of will was commendable when he refrained.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, absolutely. Killed at least one husband with poisonous snakes.” His face was completely emotionless, and the raised brow Bruce made was completely worth everything. “She trains them with whistles, obviously. They go through the air vents to attack people so they don’t get stepped on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...you’ve been watching Sherlock Holmes again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit, you can’t just call me out like that! Fine, you do better. Two o’clock, the gent with the stupid mustache.” Hood waved his hand holding his cider in the general direction with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He still didn’t miss the way Bruce hid a grin behind his own glass of sparkling cider. Worth </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...you mean Commissioner Gordon? It’s a challenge, but I think I’m equal to it.” He paused, considering. “Clearly,” he said, in his Very Serious voice. “What we are dealing with here is a paranoid sociopath with a delusional Napoleon complex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it wasn’t for very good reflexes, Hood would’ve dropped his glass he laughed so hard. It drew attention to them, stares that normally would burn along Hood’s skin, but he couldn’t be bothered when Bruce was being so funny. “Commish ain’t short enough for a Napoleon complex! He’s like, 5’9”!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded. “That’s what makes it ‘delusional’. The Commissioner clearly suffers from persistent hallucinations of everyone he meets being taller than he is, possibly due to some deep-seated feelings of inadequacy rooted in childhood, adolescence or Arkham’s revolving door. Clearly, he is one bad day away from unleashing mayhem as the masked criminal Stilt-Man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>S-Stilt-Man</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Oh my goodness, that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>aheehee</span>
  </em>
  <span>, oh I can’t breathe. I’m gonna pull my stitches.” Hood pressed his free hand to his side where he’d been stabbed a few days ago. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’d </span>
  </em>
  <span>been fun. Bright side was he’d gotten a new knife out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We already have Kite-Man and Polka-Dot Man. Stilts aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>absurd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, you made your point. My turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked around at all the people socializing without knowing they were part of the best party game in Gotham. Hood didn’t know how Bruce came up with it, or even if he had, but it was a surefire way to make any party enjoyable. “Let’s see, speaking of stitches, let’s find a Stabber… that guy- with the plaid suit that went out of fashion the same time as the dinosaurs- Oh, wait...is that..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt, more than heard, the growl in Bruce’s voice. “Victor Zsasz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of relative silence between them as they watched Zsasz eat some pigs in a blanket. “Is he here for the h'orderves or do you think he’s here to BeZsaszle someone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce gave him a long, flat look. “...BeZsaszle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean. Zsasz. </span>
  <em>
    <span>BeZsaszle</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Hood accompanied this thorough explanation with jazz hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly is involved in being ‘BeZsaszled’?” Bruce asked, dry. “Just being murdered by Victor Zsasz, or does he have to pose the bodies as well before it counts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not anyone can BeZsaszle or be BeZsaszled. Gotta have the right </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and a bit of posing or a dramatic fall as they die. So, yes, the posing. Lifelike posed corpses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just so we’re clear.” Which- He loves how </span>
  <em>
    <span>deadpan </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bruce can get. And GL claims he hasn’t got a sense of humor! Come to think of it, no one outside the ‘fam believes him when he says Bruce is funny. They’re obviously blind. Or deaf. Or both. It was a sad world filled with blind-deaf people. Who clearly didn’t have a sense of humor either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you wanna do? Can’t let him BeZsaszle someone at a charity event. It’d ruin the charity, not to mention your carpet. Your turn or mine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s eyes flicked around the ballroom. “...yours,” he said. “People are expecting you to run and hide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hood sighed and looked into his glass. “Yeah. Which way is your panic room again? Oh, and sorry about your shirt.” Hood staged a trip, spilling the rest of his cider all over Bruce’s front and making a loud dramatic gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! I’m- uh- s..so sorry!” Hood darted his glance at all of the people they were about to rescue from being BeZsaszled and didn’t have to fake the oncoming anxiety from their less-than-nice stares. The moment he was sure all attention was on him, he fled. He could hear Bruce try to placate the guests and took a turn towards the guest room where he stored a spare suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less than five minutes later and he was crashing into the ballroom, just in time to see Zsasz pull a knife and start towards Bruce. “Not so fast, Victor! You’re not BeZsaszling Gotham’s Hottest Bachelor!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hood was almost so preoccupied with wrestling Victor’s knife away he just about missed Bruce’s rolled eyes. But it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>turn to be damsel, so he could just deal with it. The moment Bruce was out of arm’s reach, he backed up a few steps further, pretending to be out of breath from the struggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hero.” Bruce’s swooning tone, played for their audience and only </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>sarcastic enough not to be obvious, just about broke Hood’s Game Face. Not that anyone could see it behind his helmet, but still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll always come to </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>rescue, Mister Wayne. Or my name isn’t Red Hood! Now, Victor. You’ve had your fun so the party's over for you. Unless you want to make a donation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, so some parties were fun after all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The idea of Bruce playing a game of guessing which guests have committed what crime comes from the fabulous Kitty Unpretty, so much of my own idea of Batman comes from her wonderful works.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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